


Stay

by JustaTWDfangirl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Animal Death, Between Season 2 and Season 3, Deer Hunting, Hunting, M/M, Pre-Slash, post winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-16 13:30:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21508720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustaTWDfangirl/pseuds/JustaTWDfangirl
Summary: They don't talk about the group, or which road to take and whose car is about to run out of gas. Never like this. It's just this comfort when they don't have to communicate, not like when they're with their group of survivors. Sometimes when Rick looks at him, Daryl thinks he can understand what Rick means, and vice versa. It's strange to Daryl that the person who seemingly gets him more than Merle is someone that isn’t blood.Daryl's musing is cut short when Rick calls him. He turns back to see Rick crouch next to a trail. Daryl comes closer and jerks slightly back when Rick's elbow slides against his leg.It’s a new trail.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes
Kudos: 60





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbeta'd.

Daryl asks himself if he wants to leave Rick's group and strikes out on his own. He's good surviving alone, he knows that. They're strangers, not like Merle. So why is he still staying with them? ‘ _Just_ _one more day, and then I'll think about a way out_ ’, Daryl said that to Merle's voice in his head that kept telling him to leave. That was four months ago. Now the winter has passed and he's still here with them. He's gonna leave one day, that thought is always in the back of his mind, waiting for a tinder to fire up again. 

For the time being, he settles for sticking with Rick and the group. But being surrounded with a lot of people 24/7, he doesn't have much time alone to do anything, since they have to constantly move and stay as close as possible for better protection, except for when he goes out to hunt. 

Daryl always prefers to hunt alone. He can focus better on the prey and doesn't have to think of something to talk about if he has a company. There's one more thing. The peacefulness of the woods, he wants to keep to himself to enjoy, although he doubts anyone would have the same appreciation for it as he does. Sometimes Daryl tumbles across a tree stand, but he never climbs them, not trusting their stability and besides, it is easier to chase a wounded prey when you're on the ground in the first place. Daryl could have borrowed the shotgun that T-Dog stacks in the back of his car, but the loud noise would not only shoo the animals around away but also call the Walkers over towards his position, towards his group. Too much of a risk so Daryl uses his trusted crossbow as a company instead. 

The first hunting rule in his book is: do not let your prey hear you. He actually learned it from Merle, and although his brother's hunting skill was kind of sloppier than his, he was right about that. Get close but not too close, and fix your aim before pulling the trigger. As easy as it sounds but if you're not made to be a hunter or at least a good shot, you're doomed. 

Rick Grimes qualifies as the latter, but not so much as the former. Daryl has seen him shoot a Walker dead in the eye from a large distance with just a quick aim. He was impressed, but he didn't tell Rick that. It was just a part of what they do now: kill the undead and protect the group, try to survive to see the next sunrise. Practical at best. But among all those people that are lucky enough to still be alive, who cares? Daryl is just glad that he could put his faith in the cop, hoping that he will bring them to somewhere safe, another rest stop. 

Merle would lash out if he ever went hunting with Rick because the cop makes so much noise with his cowboy boots when he walks through the woods. The snap of a twig would be a dead giveaway, and he and Rick would have to find another source of food or come back empty-handed. Glenn would be more quiet and agile, but he's absolutely shit at aiming. Alright, not that shitty, but still. Kid still has so much to learn. 

Rick never pushes him to talk though, always a step behind him, always paying attention to what Daryl shows him. A hoofprint, a trail, a broken tree branch. Daryl once said to Rick that he didn't have to hunt, Daryl could take care of that. But the man said he didn't have to do it alone. "Show me the rope, so I can contribute to the portions as well." That's what Rick said. Rick has done enough, he has done more than anyone in his group has, but he still wants to do more. Or maybe he just wants to get away from Lori for a while. Makes sense. Why would he wander in the woods with Daryl if not 'cause of it? The tension is thick enough to choke Daryl whenever Rick and Lori have a talk. They don't quarrel in front of Carl however, always a distance from the kid when doing so. One day Rick came to him and said: "Let me go with you." Daryl eyed the thin woman by the roadside in contemplation before looking back at Rick. He looked tired, but his posture was steady and his eyes were bright, and then Daryl patted his shoulder before jerking his head towards the woods. 

The truth is, as bad as Rick is at tracking, having the cop by his side at times like these isn't so terrible. Rick's mild disinterest in hunting is slowly turning into wanting to know more about it. And it's nice to have somebody to talk about this kind of stuff, something Daryl knows one thing or two about. It's nice to have somebody watch his back while he's doing the aiming. Walkers can be sudden as fuck sometimes, those slick bastards. Daryl tentatively enjoys his time with Rick, knowing the relaxation will vanish once they return to their group. 

Morning sunlight slices through the dew covering the trees and bushes. Daryl glances at the mat of people still sound asleep across the floor of the abandoned cabin they're staying at. The string of squirrels has gone since the previous night, and Daryl loathes to leave a child and a pregnant woman with nothing to eat, so he takes some newly sharpened bolts and heads into the forest, but not before he wakes Beth to change guard. The young girl yawns, covering herself with a thin blanket and nodding at Daryl. Only a few steps away from the cabin a tug already forms at the corner of his mouth when he hears the soles of cowboy boots hitting the ground behind him. 

"Can I come with you?" Rick asks, fastening his gun belt. He doesn’t look like he slept much. 

Daryl shoulders his crossbow while trying to hide the fact that he's pleased that Rick goes with him again. "Not gonna stop ya." 

Rick squints mirthfully. "Don't sound so dejected like that, Daryl." 

"Yer a pain in the ass, ya know that?" Daryl smirks at him. 

The cold of the morning doesn't deter Daryl from wearing only a sleeveless shirt. It will get warmer in the afternoon. Still, he fights back the shudder when they walk through a clearing and a breeze passes them. Rick is wearing a plaid shirt with sleeves rolled up to elbows, a pair of dark faded jeans and cowboy boots.

It's about an hour in when Daryl raises his hand to signal Rick, and they crouch down to examine a trail. A deer, light-weight, maybe one or two years old. Its left hind leg is injured since one of the trails is dragged. He tells all that to Rick and the cop lifts his head to meet Daryl's eyes. 

"You're really good at this," Rick states, and Daryl detects awe in his voice. 

"Just needs some practice is all," he says, but a not so small part of him is proud hearing the man's praise. 

"Should we follow it?" Rick glances around to search for a Walker, but none is in sight. 

"Nah, not worth it. It's injured, would be a waste of time chasin' to find out it got bitten or somethin'. And with that slow pace it will get caught by the Walkers sooner or later." Having said that, Daryl's eyes still follow the trails into the bushes. 

Rick stands up, his knee cracking as he does so. "Or we split up, that way it'll be quicker to catch anything." He doesn't look so happy with his own idea, but the offer is still there for Daryl to take. He shakes his head then. " Don't take offense but yer can't use a knife yet, and ya said the other day that ya wanted ta try my bow, so let's find our prey and I'll show ya how ta handle this thing." He gestures to the weapon behind his back. 

Rick scratches his beard with his palm, seeming to be in thought. "No, you're right. Knives are not my thing, to be honest. Guns, yes, but not knives." 

"Yer ain’t so bad, Grimes," Daryl says quickly and continues to stride. Rick follows behind him, and Daryl feels a sense resembling peacefulness take over him. The sound of an owl blends in with the chirps of birds and weasels. The sun is going up, and it's getting hotter that Daryl's arms no longer raise goosebumps when they pass another clearing. The air is humid and warm with the scents of dirt and tree bark. They're all so familiar to him, the smell, the lines of trees, and the sunlight scintillating through the foliage above his head. The sounds of Rick walking with him are starting to feel familiar too. 

They don't talk about the group, or which road to take and whose car is about to run out of gas. Never like this. It's just this comfort when they don't have to communicate, not like when they're with their group of survivors. Sometimes when Rick looks at him, Daryl thinks he can understand what Rick means, and vice versa. It's strange to Daryl that the person seemingly gets him more than Merle is someone that isn’t blood. 

Rick talks about Carl though, always with a small smile on his lips. Daryl does the same most of the time when he listens to him. You don't have to lean in and take in every detail to see how much Rick loves his son. Daryl thinks it's... nice. These days he seems to use that word a lot. ' _Nice'_. But it's true though, seeing Rick's eyes light up as he told him about the first time he held Carl in his arms, Daryl just knew that there's nothing in this world that Rick wouldn't do for the boy. 

Daryl's musing is cut short when Rick calls him. He turns back to see Rick crouch next to a trail. Daryl comes closer and jerks slightly back when Rick's elbow slides against his leg. 

It’s a new trail. 

"Good job, ya picked up a recent one." Looking down at the hoof prints, he praises Rick, and the man nods at him before teasing. "Where have you been flying to, Daryl? I called you twice but you didn't listen." 

"To Neverland. Ya better be glad 'cause I came back. Now focus." Daryl knocks his shoulder with Rick's, feeling his cheeks flushed lightly despite his retort. 

A growl coming from their left alarms them both. Daryl makes to draw his crossbow but Rick already steps up and pulls a knife out of his waistband. "I got it. Save your arrow." 

He approaches the Walker with calm strides and when it raises its rotten hands out to try and grab him, Rick dodges with a swivel of his body and holds its shoulder in place before twisting the knife into its skull. The growling stops and the Walker lifelessly falls to the ground, making a weird shape of human body. Rick wipes the knife on the Walker's ugly floral shirt before putting it back to place. 

They take a moment to look around and see if there's more. The faintest growling can be heard from afar. They have to do this quick, Daryl decides then. Rick seems to think the same as his eyes meet the man's gaze. 

"C'mon Rick! Before those rotten sumbitches get to us." 

They follow the trail to a slope. Boulders covered in moss litter the steep surface. There's the deer! It's at the bottom of the slope, munching from a tree branch, unaware of the oncoming threat. It hasn't seen them yet. Daryl holds his crossbow with two hands, then brings the cross-eye in the scope to the deer's broadside. A shot to the lungs will be the quickest. Rick already gets his knife out, staying alert. Adrenaline pumps through Daryl's veins, clearing his vision and making his heart pound heavily in his chest. The bolt slices through the air and spins like a bullet before pinning itself into the deer's body. With a shriek the deer jerks once, twice before falling to the ground, twitching in its last breaths. 

Rick surveys the surface then carefully climbs down, cursing as he slips a long step. Daryl doesn't fare much better. He rips his damn pants in the process, right at the inner thigh. Rick has already used a rope to tie the deer up when he finally makes it to the bottom. They each take the deer's two legs, heave it up and hurriedly find a way back to the cabin. 

In the end, they have to go around the slope to search for a more even path to go up. It's the moister part of the woods, with ferns and climbers everywhere. Thankfully the deer isn't so heavy that they have to stop every once in a while to take a breather. They stop once to dispatch a few Walkers though. Rick wipes the blood on the knife straight on his pants and Daryl leaves one of his bolts behind. 

It's late in the morning when they make it back to the group. Rick's back is drenched in sweat and Daryl's face is red like a boiled crab, and they both smell like deer fur, but when they look at each other's pitiful, sweaty face, they both bark out a laugh. Rick wipes his forehead with his sleeve, still with the deep belly laugh. Daryl is suddenly too tired, adrenaline no longer there to stir his muscles up. He sits on the porch steps, gazing up at Rick. His curls are messy and one of them has fallen onto his forehead, and the sweat is running down from the sides of his face to his neck. He catches Daryl's gaze and smiles at him. Daryl finds himself flush more, if that's even possible. He shakes his head mentally and tips his head back as the sun shines white light into his eyes. 

Carl comes running out from the door later, staring at the deer with his eyes wide. Carol who is stacking packages onto one of the cars stops to walk over as well with a grin on her face. They've gone so long without going to sleep with a full belly. This will make a good meal for all of them. That thought leaves a tingling feeling in his chest, and he smiles to himself. 

Daryl offers to gut the deer but Glenn and Hershel say they can take care of it, and tell him to rest a bit. The old man pats him on the shoulder and says, "Please get your ass inside I'll do it for you, you stubborn man." 

Maggie thanks him when they pass each other in the doorway. Daryl just shrugs, feeling awkward. ' _It ain't nothin'_ , ' _You guys should thank Rick too'_ , he feels like saying. But his body decides to tell him to get into the cabin and let it lay down for a while. Rick has run off somewhere, probably upstairs to wash up. Daryl eyes the box of supplies on the table in the living room, thinking that they'll have to continue their trek tomorrow. He lets himself fall on the couch and stares up at the ceiling, crossbow propped by his side. 

"You're bleeding." Beth comes near him and gestures to his thigh. She has a sorry look on her face, and her movement seems timid. "Do you need me to see to it? I found some gauze upstairs-" 

Her hands are clutching the gauze and a bottle of saline. Daryl waves her off. "Nah, don't need it. A couple of days and I'll be fine." 

"Sorry I couldn't do more to help." She smiles sheepishly and at that moment it dawns on him the reason why she's acting strangely today. He looks at her then. "Hey, ya take good care of yer old man and yer sister, that's helpful enough ta me." 

"He's right. You're doing a great job Beth, so don't worry." From behind her, Rick appears with a cloth in his hand. He now wears a white T-shirt, his hands clean from dirt and deer blood. He takes the gauze and the bottle from her, but not before giving her a reassuring smile. She returns it and goes outside, closing the door softly behind her. 

Rick moves to sit next to him and Daryl pulls his legs back to himself. 

"Do you mind if I see it?" Rick asks. 

"It's just a scratch. Ain't nothin' serious to fawn over man." Daryl protests. 

Rick levels him with a gaze, and Daryl can only duck his head and bite the inside of his cheek. Rick's calloused fingers close in on his left ankle and pull gently until Daryl's leg is on Rick's thighs. Daryl is tense like a bowstring, and he couldn't help shifting back and forth on the couch. Rick squeezes his knee once. "Relax, it's okay. I'll make it quick." 

"Where's Lori?" Daryl asks, trying to distract himself from Rick's warm hand that is touching the skin of his inner thigh. Rick reaches for the bottle of saline on the table and uses it to dampen the cloth. "I should tell you to take off your pants, but I know you wouldn't like that, so let me tear this place out some more." 

Rick uses both hands to do it, but he manages to not touch the wound while doing so. He cleans the wound with the cloth, dabbing the dirt and what little blood away. Daryl tries to keep his breathing even as he looks at the gleaming watch on Rick's wrist. "Ahh, she's in the back, talking with T-Dog." 

He doesn't go further than that so Daryl doesn't ask for more. Rick tells him that he's going to put on the gauze, and Daryl nods. He slowly eases down, no longer feeling tight-chested from the proximity with Rick. Why he was anxious in the first place, he doesn't know. 

  
It's Rick after all. 

  
Rick who cuffed Merle to a pipe in Atlanta and then came back to save him. Rick who is cut out to be a leader. Rick who never says what's really on his mind. Rick who makes Daryl feel needed, along with the group. Rick who walks like he has to step on every twig under the ground while going hunting with Daryl. 

Daryl lets out a tiny snort at that, and Rick's blue eyes perk up, curiosity twinkling in them. "What's funny?" 

His fingers are so gentle on Daryl's skin. 

"Nothin'." Daryl scratches his nose, before remembering something. "Aw damn it, the crossbow lesson ya asked for. We have ta leave it until next time then." 

"Yeah, that's too bad. But we got the deer in the end, so it's more than made up for it." With Rick done wrapping him up, Daryl moves his leg off his thighs and sits up. "Yer right. But next time, if ya ever wanna catch anything, ya better walk barefoot, Rick, or I'm gonna leave ya at home." He was just teasing. The flutter in his chest grows watching Rick laugh. It's been a while since he saw the man this relaxed. 

The Merle in his head has a smug expression on his face. ' _Yer_ _decide to stay_ _Darleena? With this ragtag group and_ _yer_ _sheriff_ _Rick?'_

Daryl looks down on his hands. His only answer is ringing in his mind. Clear and resonant.

_'Yeah, I'm_ _stayin'_ _,_ _Merle_.'

He's going to stay. He knows that. For as long as they can make it. The decision washes away the uncertainty in him that has rooted for so long, leaving behind a small spark of something like hope. He wills Merle's voice to shut up, and surprisingly, for the first time it obeys. 

Rick leans back against the couch and it squeaks under the weight. 

"A barefoot hunter huh?" Rick says, and Daryl agrees. 

"Yup. A barefoot hunter." 


End file.
